


Foreign

by Cheeziswin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Gen, WrongDimension!Ford, very upset old boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 14:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10191878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeziswin/pseuds/Cheeziswin
Summary: Ford finds out he's been living a lie.





	

It's the island he'd been dying to visit ever since he'd read about it back in college, and it's gone. At first, he's confused, thinks it's the map. He pulls out another. It's not there either. He puzzles for a few moments, and that's when the possibility creeps into his head. It terrifies him, so he smothers it in denial and pulls out the rest of their maps.

With every single one, he shakes harder until he can't even hold them in his hand. It's gone. There's not even a mention or a trace of it. The paper falls from his grasp and flutters to the floor. His mind is buzzing with a deafening static, and it feels like someone is stepping on his throat. His emotions are flying by so quickly that he can't pin them down, he can't tell if he wants to scream or cry or stay standing there, staring at the floor as the universe takes a match to his life.

Everything suddenly feels so wrong. The sound of the ocean, the sway of the boat, even his own skin feels like it doesn't belong. His hands unconsciously start to itch at his skin, and once he starts he can't stop, hyperventilating as he frantically claws at his scalp, at the hat that his niece - no, not his, that some other Ford's niece knitted for him. The thought makes his head ring, the pain in his head intensifying. He screams, his fist flies, and it puts a neat hole into the wall.

The impact snaps him out of it somewhat, and he stumbles away, collapsing into the booth behind him. He hangs his still pounding head, putting his face into his numb hands, and tries to control his wheezing breaths.

"Stanford?"

Nothing could have stopped his rapidly beating heart faster.

His head snaps up with a devastated look, seeing the concern on his brot- on Stanley's face. His whole body feels heavy as it slams into him, the thought of Stan finally settling in his mind, and it somehow makes Ford's state of mind plummet even further than it already had.

_How the hell am I supposed to tell him?_

Stanley hesitantly sits down across from him. Ford desperately avoids his gaze.

"Are you okay, bro?" Stan asks softly, in a voice that Ford's rarely ever heard. He must have really rattled Stanley if he's got him this open. He can't bring himself to answer, breath that had stopped starting to come out in quickened pants.

Stanley is patient, and somehow it just makes Ford feel worse as he sits there trying to bring himself to tell him. It occurs to him that he never has to tell him, that he can lie the rest of his life, that he can pretend nothing is so supremely wrong, Stanley can stay ignorantly happy and Ford can try and ignore the tightness that's drilled down to his very core.

Even getting the I of doing that makes him hate himself.

He can't tell how long he's sitting there like that when he hears Stan move. He drops a hand, glancing at the one stretched across the table to him. He doesn't have to look up to know what Stanley looks like right now. He looks away again.

"Ford..." Stan breathes, and Ford's shoulders tighten. "Whatever's going on, you can tell me, okay? I'm here."

Ford thinks that's a lie.

Another few minutes pass, Ford still shaking, breathing still irregular. This time Stan is less patient. You're scaring him, Ford thinks.

"Stanford, please." Stan whispers again, distress evident in his voice "I know you, and this... seems really bad, please tell me what's wrong."

"No, you don't." Ford unconsciously says under his breath, even more quiet behind the curtain of his hands.

"What?"

" _You don't know me, Stanley_!" Ford bellows, finally facing the man who thought he was his brother with fire in his eyes. Stanley jumps back at the outburst, hurt confusion all over his face, and Stanford's heart drops. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes and Stanley is suddenly visibly as alarmed by them as Ford is.

"I-I'm sorry, I... You don't- I'm sorry." Ford apologized dazedly, sitting back down, not even realizing he'd shot up when he yelled. He doesn't bother wiping away the tears that are suddenly rolling down his face as he stares silently at the tabletop. Stan studies him with apprehension.

Ford takes a deep breath in and closes his eyes, before letting it out and swallowing. His vision is blurry through the tears when he opens his eyes again, and he still doesn't bother with them. One of them rolls off his cheek and down his neck, cold and uncomfortable. He breathes again. Then again. Then again until he's calmed.

"Stanley," He starts weakly, voice cracking. There's a long pause as Stan swallows, hands wringing with impatience. Ford's hands start to shake again. He's just got to do this quick. "Stanley, I'm in the wrong dimension."

Stanley is completely silent and it makes Ford's skin start to itch again. He resists the urge as Stan's eyebrows furrow and his eyes dart along the table as his brain wraps itself around what Ford has said.

"You're..." Stan croaks out finally, panic rising in his voice as he continues "You're not my Ford?"

Ford's throat tightens again and the tears sting even more than they did before as he shakes his head "I'm not, Stan. I'm sorry."

"How do you know?" Stan questions, voice more desperate than Ford's ever heard it.

"My- My universe, it has a large island a couple miles off the coast of China and- and it doesn't exist in this universe." Ford explains, feeling more pained as he watches Stan's face drop, as he watches Stan go through the same thing he went through when it first hit him.

"So you're telling me I didn't- You're telling me that my brother's still _out there_?" Stan cries, in a voice so broken that it takes all Ford's strength not to sob "You're really not him?"

"I'm really not, Stanley, I'm- I'm so sorry." He's not even halfway through the sentence before Stanley sobs, his hands clasping together and going to his forehead.

"No... no, _no_... are you _kidding_ me..." Stanley whimpers and tears roll down his face even worse than Ford's own. Ford doesn't know what the hell to do, has no way to fix this or to even try to make it better. He extends a hand and Stanley grabs it for support, a death grip that Stanford himself returns.

This isn't his Stanley. He's not his Ford. For all he knows, this Stanley's Ford is dead, or happy in some other universe, probably still hates him. His own Stanley might still be trying to turn on the portal. His own Stanley might have given up on him and had his own life. His own Stanley could be dead too. He has no idea what to do with that information. He doesn't think Stanley does either. So he just stares on in horror as Stanley crumbles before him, as his body is wracked with violent sobs, as the truth behind the 3 years they've spent together at sea falls apart.

**Author's Note:**

> first thing I've written in a month and it's not much but it's #something so i'll take it


End file.
